


A Challenge Gladly Accepted

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond is returning equipment from a what was supposed to be a routine mission in Madrid—grab the witness, bring him in alive, never mind he’s 19 and a little shit—but of course Bond's missions never go quite as planned. Q complains but seems willing to flirt anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Challenge Gladly Accepted

The corner of Bond’s mouth turned up as he strolled into Q-Branch, hands in his pockets, his steps lazy but surprisingly silent for a man his size. Q didn’t look up from the gun he was handling as Bond approached, but he could hardly miss his entrance from the way the agent he had been assisting suddenly stood much straighter—Q suspected she actually had to repress the urge to snap a smart salute—and there was not mistaking the remarkably shiny pair of men’s dress shoes standing to his left, just at the edge of his peripheral vision.

“Good evening, 007,” Q greeted, his head still bent over the damaged gun. “If you would just wait another minute until I finish assisting Agent Parikh, I will be with you shortly.”

The shoes shifted slightly but remained where they were. Bond himself replied, in a cordial tone, “Of course, Q.”

“Right,” said Q, “I will have Singerton see what he can do about the balance, Agent Parikh.” He placed the gun to his right, past a stack of paper near the edge of the table. “In the meantime, please take this,” he shifted a paper closer and pulled a golf pencil from his pocket, checking off boxes and adding his signature to the bottom, “to Prentiss, just there in the corner, and she will furnish you with a new gun.” Q leaned forward slightly as he handed the form to the waiting agent, who nodded and with an obliging “Yes, sir,” walked over to Agent Prentiss, who acknowledged her with smile. Q snapped off his gloves, straightened his shoulders, and turned toward Bond, eyebrow raised. “007,” he said mildly, “what can I do for you?”

The corner of Bond’s lips curled again and he tilted his head forward to look at coyly. “Would you like a list?” he asked.

Q smiled but didn’t show his teeth. “No, thank you. I think I can imagine most of its contents and I suspect they would not be work-appropriate.” He watched as Bond stepped closer but pre-empted any more flirtatious remarks by asking, “How was Madrid?”

“Rather tedious, actually,” Bond replied, his body language back to businesslike.

Q looked a cheerful at the news. “That bodes well for my equipment, then. I assume you are here to return it?” His fell moderately as Bond finally took his hands from his pockets and removed his gun from its holster under his arm. The weapon looked singed and Bond placed it on the table beside Q. Q turned from the gun back to Bond, his brow furrowed. “What have you done to your gun this time?” he asked, annoyed.

“Dropped it in a fire,” replied Bond, unbothered.

“A fire?” responded Q.

“Yes,” smiled Bond. He didn’t elaborate, though Q stared at him, waiting, for several seconds. Q sighed, “Okay then, just let me,” his voice drifted into silence as he took another form from the stack and picked up his abandoned pencil. Bond shifted beside him and set his radio, which at least appeared intact, beside the damaged gun. “Is there any way I could possibly bribe you into not ruining or losing the equipment Her Majesty’s government provides for you?” Q enquired, still bent over the sheet of paper in front of him.

Bond leaned in closer and dropped his voice, “Have dinner with me.”

Q rolled his eyes, signed the form, and looked up at Bond with a wry expression. He responded, “This is what, the sixth time you’ve asked?” Q straightened, then turned and leaned backward to rest on the edge of the table. He continued, “And it will be the sixth time I turn you down, as well.”

Bond smiled again, saying, “Yes, well, you have yet to give me an outright ‘No’, so I think I will continue to take my chances until you do.” He was very close to the quartermaster now, pushing his way into his space, one hand back in his pocket, the other sitting lightly on the table just inches from Q’s own.

Q tilted his head and looked at Bond for a moment, searching his face. “I will make you a deal, 007.”

“I’m listening,” murmured Bond.

“If you can come back from an assignment with all your equipment in working order, I would be happy to have dinner with you.” Q’s eyebrow quirked as he issued the challenge. Bond’s responding smirk was absolutely devilish.

“In that case,” he said, “I think I might forgo dinner tonight and see if M has anything he can send me out on immediately.” He winked at Q and then walked purposefully across the room, out the door and into the hall beyond with a flirtatious wave over his shoulder as he exited Q-Branch. Q curled over the table, pretending to add more notes to the form in front of him, trying and failing to hide a grin he couldn’t quite suppress.


End file.
